


You're Going To Lose That Girl

by Autumn_Llleaves



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Eventual Fluff, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Non-Graphic Violence, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 06:59:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3641028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Autumn_Llleaves/pseuds/Autumn_Llleaves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Winterfell Ltd. went bankrupt after Eddard Stark's death, Joffrey Baratheon thought no one would interfere in his, as he calls it, relationship with Sansa Stark anymore. He certainly didn't expect her to be snatched away by his own uncle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're Going To Lose That Girl

**Author's Note:**

> Never thought I'd seriously write a modern AU, but here it is. 
> 
> Everyone aged up a bit, so: Joffrey and Sansa are 19, Tyrion 33, Cersei 39, Tommen around 9 or 10.

"What do you _mean_ , taking Tommen away?" Cersei shouted to someone. "He is my son, if you don't recall!"

Sansa groaned upon hearing it. Little Tommen was practically the only bright spot in her current state of life. Myrcella had left on a camping trip South with her boyfriend, Tristan or something, and right now no one but Tommen with his kittens and toys could cheer Sansa up.

And to think of it that just a few months ago her life seemed to be absolutely perfect. A big happy family, Dad the founder of a large corporation, named after their dear old house in Alaska. A trip to New York, looking like a fulfilment of all her dreams. Finally – a dashing soon-to-be fiance, the son of Father's greatest friend.

How could she have been so blind? The way Joffrey always mocked her younger siblings. The way he looked at the rest of the world like some dirt under his feet. It was his fault that her pet dog Lady was euthanised – Joffrey told his doting mother that the dog might be rabid, and Cersei wouldn't let Sansa's father rest until he called the vet... But Sansa always found out a way to excuse Joffrey and put the blame on someone else.

She moved to their mansion, and then he began to be openly nasty to her. Still, she refused to believe it. She thought he was just unbalanced because of their parents' divorce. Cersei practically kicked her husband out of the house and managed to get him jailed for embezzlement.

Sansa did all she could to comfort Joffrey, and how did he repay her? By sending a killer to her father, saying something about Winterfell Ltd. violating the monopoly laws.

Since then, her life had been a torture. She had to endure Joffrey's almost daily beatings and his mother's calm indifference. Joffrey said that she should be grateful – she'd die of starvation, good for nothing as she was, if she didn't live with them. Her wild sister Arya had run away and not been heard of since then, her mother, sick in the head after everything, was cared for by Arya's devoted ex-boyfriend Gendry. Her elder brother was killed in the streets, some foolish fight over a girl, her younger brothers were reportedly taken to live with an Inuit woman Osha, and her half-brother had volunteered into the army and cut off his ties to the family. No one knew of the horror Sansa was living through.

The girl stood up with a shudder as she heard footsteps. If Joffrey finds her listening at the door...

"Ah, my dear," the young man smiled. The smile used to turn her heart upside down, now it brought only dread. "You must have heard the news."

"I think I didn't," she whispered carefully.

"Shame on you. My uncle Tyrion is coming for a visit. Don't you hear Mom shouting on the phone? That's him calling. They're always bickering. Such fun will it be to watch, don't you agree?"

"Of course," Sansa nodded hurriedly.

She had only seen photos of Tyrion Lannister and heard of him from some employees of Old Lion Logistics. The man was a dwarf, they said, but "he wasn't born with a large head for nothing". At thirty-three, he was already the company's CEO, with his father (grudgingly) relying on him very much, to Cersei's great annoyance.

"Don't you embarrass me in front of him," Joffrey said, a dangerous edge in his voice. "Or you know what you'll get for it."

"I'll do my best!" Sansa promised. He looked at her critically:

"Your face is bruised. I think you need to ask Mom for some powder. I don't want Uncle to think I'm dating a freak."

Sansa breathed out with relief. At least the beatings would stop for a while.

"But don't try my patience," Joffrey drawled. "It has its limits, darling."

***

The journey was killing him. Tyrion never got on well with jet lag, and during the last three days he had a double one, first from Shanghai to London and then from London here. Not mentioning that he had to endure Elizabeth Rin with her paranoia and her never-ending attempts to crash Logistics. Thank goodness _she_ will never have her husband's company – old Rin Zhong had known better than to leave her in charge. Then there was the nasty breakup with Shae, and _then_ there was the emergency landing somewhere in the mountains. And lastly the meeting with Dad in their London office.

A pleasant and relaxing trip, no doubt.

"A man can only take that much," his bodyguard Bronn said, exhausted, as they finally landed in New York.

"And a halfman can take half as much," Tyrion agreed. "Don't worry, there's more to come. My dearest sister is just what I need now."

He was proven right when Cersei didn't even hide her disdain as he arrived.

"I won't let you take Tommen," she said instead of greeting him.

"I missed you too, sweet sister."

"He's my son."

"You're repeating yourself, Cersei," he pointed out. "I haven't seen him in several months."

Cersei was going to say something more when the boy himself ran out, happily yelling:

"Uncle Tyrion!"

"Ah, Tommen!" he hugged the child. "Quite grown, haven't you? You'll soon be able to lift me up."

Tommen laughed:

"Uncle, you know what? Whiskers has missed you! When I told them all you're coming, she mewed so cheerfully! And Sansa said..."

"Sansa?" Tyrion asked.

"Sansa Stark, Joff's girlfriend," Cersei explained, not lifting her face from the laptop. "She's been living here since her father's death."

Just then, Joffrey himself came into the hall, holding a hand of a red-haired girl. Tyrion observed her. Not bad-looking, true – glossy hair, blue eyes – but obviously too fond of powder, blush and lipstick. It was almost dripping down her face.

"Uncle," Joff said curtly – they've never been very fond of each other. "Good morning. Meet Sansa Stark. We're engaged."

"Mr. Lannister, nice to meet you," Sansa smiled and stretched her hand. Shaking it, Tyrion realized she was wearing gloves. Gloves? In July?

"Why all the ceremonies, dear girl, if you're soon to marry Joff," he said. "Just Uncle to you. Or Tyrion, if you prefer."

Joff grimaced with distaste and said:

"Sansa prefers the formal way. Don't you, love?"

"I think – yes, rather," she nodded vigorously.

Tyrion frowned. He heard from Dad that Joff had found a girlfriend and that they were a perfect couple, but he had always an inkling of doubt about it. Knowing the sadistic streak of his eldest nephew... Right now, something was surely very, very wrong with the two.

"As you like, then," he grinned. "I've been planning to take my nephews to the new exhibition in the Smithsonian..."

Tommen bounced joyfully. For some unknown reason he adored traveling by train, especially with his uncle, especially when it ended at the Air and Space Museum. Joffrey pretended not to listen.

"...But I've all forgotten that Joff's almost a family man now. So I think I'll take only Tommen. Don't you mind, Joff? I mean, I don't want to separate you two lovebirds."

Suddenly, Sansa's eyes lit up:

"Oh, Mr... ehm... well, couldn't you instead take me with the three of you? I've been _dying_ to visit Washington for ages."

"If you don't mind a third and a fourth wheel with you and Joff, I have no objections," Tyrion said. He saw happiness on the girl's face. What was it? Simply about a trip to another city? Her father had been a magnate, and Cersei is no poorer, surely she could afford it anytime...

***

"What were you thinking?" Joff hissed, his fist already raised. Sansa whimpered:

"I was... I'm sorry... I..."

"Just because you want to visit this stupid museum doesn't mean I want to visit it!"

"I was only..."

"Shut up! You think you're engaged to Tommen, aren't you? He loves all this spaceship stuff. But you are not his girlfriend! He's a bit too young for you, don't you think?"

"It wasn't about anyone else!" she squeaked. "I thought you might enjoy the trip! I didn't want you to cancel it on my account!"

_I was hoping to get a rest from you for a while. You wouldn't dare to hit me in public._

"I decide what I might enjoy and what I might not! You're my girl, not my head!"

Smack. Smack. With the makeup applied, it somehow was even worse. Not only painful, but sticky.

"Tomorrow," smack, "morning," smack, "you tell Uncle we want to stay at home."

"But," Sansa tried to protest. Smack. Now in her knee. She fell on the floor. Oh, if only Joff shouted a bit louder... someone could hear what he really was...

"Tomorrow. First thing."

Luckily, he didn't go to bed with her that evening – probably afraid his uncle would hear her screams of pain. Sansa enjoyed the feeling of being alone at night and allowed herself for a moment to think she was free.

Early in the morning, she walked down to the kitchen to get herself a coffee. It was one of the few sources of strength she had.

The kitchen looked empty at first, but when Sansa was pouring herself the drink, she was startled by a friendly "Good morning" from behind her. Jumping, she looked around to see Tyrion Lannister munching on a sandwich.

The cup fell from her trembling fingers and shattered on the floor.

"Oh, no!" Sansa cried. What a mess it was!

"Sorry, Sansa," he smiled. "But it's alright, Tanda will clean it in no time," Tanda was Cersei's housekeeper.

"No, no, she comes in half an hour, and everyone will wake from the noise," Sansa bent down to gather the shards. She had already broken a cup once and remembered Joff's punishment all too well.

As she looked desperately for more shards, a hand touched her forehead.

"Sansa," the dwarf said softly, and she realized his head was on the same level as hers now. "What's the matter with your face?"

She blanched. She went to the kitchen after taking a shower, but before applying the new makeup or putting gloves on. She thought no one was awake! Now her bruises were visible.

"I fell on the floor the day before," she murmured.

"And your hands?"

"Er... cut on a shard."

"Sansa, the cup was broken a minute ago, and the scars here are all dry. It was Joff, wasn't it?"

Before she knew it, she was weeping on his shoulder. Sobbing out about Dad's murder, and of Joffrey's cruelty, and of her loneliness, and how she didn't want Tommen away because only he was good to her, and how Joffrey ordered her not to go to the museum.

"J-Joffrey s-said... I w-would die in th-the streets... if-f h-he threw m-me out..."

"Hush," Tyrion whispered, petting her hair. "Hush, girl. If Joff won't throw you out, we'll throw _him_ away. I've heard of you from both my father and the late Mr. Stark, and I know you don't deserve to be treated like this."

"J-Joffrey will k-kill me..."

"He won't," Tyrion said, looking into her eyes. "I'm taking you and Tommen to Washington, and Joffrey stays here. I'll call Dad and consult him. He's a terror, true, but he's fair. I will not have Eddard Stark's daughter endure this treatment."

"You had business with my father?" she whispered. It sounded so odd, this dwarf so small and misshapen and holding so much power.

"Why, as Old Lion's CEO I certainly did, and I'm telling you, he was a great man. Too honest, though. That's what got him killed. Too honest and honorable."

Hearing one of the Lannisters speaking of her father like this was odd too. Sansa sighed:

"So where would I go? I..." she hiccuped and blushed from embarrassment. "I sometimes b-believe Joffrey will catch me anywhere."

"I'm sort of friend with Lieutenant Snow, your half-brother. I think we'll figure it out with his help. And Joffrey will never touch you again, you have my word."

***

As they sat in the hotel restaurant after a long day spent in the museums, Tommen was already yawning but Sansa looked positively radiant. Tyrion remembered how deeply she breathed when they left the Lannister mansion – as if she had been almost smothered. She had been nervous and jumpy during the trip, squeaking in fear whenever she saw a blond man like Joff, getting all confused when the hotel manager addressed her as Miss Stark. But now she seemed to be completely relaxed.

Her bruises were powdered a bit and were slowly healing – since they weren't renewed. But she was smiling so happily, and her eyes were shining – and suddenly Tyrion realized she was a beautiful woman. Beautiful, and innocent even after what she had been through, and sweet...

Despite his deformity (or because of it, who knew?), he had always a weakness for girls. It infuriated his father to no end, and he threatened several times to kill the next one Tyrion drags into his bed.

Not that Tyrion had any illusions. Every girl recognized him as the Old Lion's CEO and was willing to play the lover... for some gold necklace or diamond brooch or a luxury class Mediterranean cruise, that is. It was better than nothing, but less than he would have wished.

When it dawned on him that he started to fall for Sansa, though, he couldn't hope even for that. The poor one had had enough of his family already, and she wasn't one to be seduced by the Lannister fortune.

_Don't be an idiot. After having Joff for a boyfriend, she might never want anyone again. Even less a dwarf almost twice her age._

He looked at his phone, there was a text from Shae.

_How doing, my lion? I miss you. Sorry for what I said, really ((( Could you maybe visit me again?_

The memories of Shae's olive face and plump lips sprang in his mind. That would be right. She was the only one who could suit him. She had never pretended to want him for his own sake or want only him – Shae was a pronounced radical feminist who, among other things, valued open relationships. And oh, wasn't he tired of pretence.

"Tommen wants to stay here a few days more, and I feel like it too," Sansa said brightly. "Can it be arranged, Tyrion?"

 _No_ , he sent to Shae.

"Yes, certainly," he answered to Sansa.

To Tommen:

"Why don't you go to bed? It's ten to midnight."

"I want more choc hotolate," Tommen mumbled sleepily, but Tyrion was adamant. Bronn had to carry the boy to the room, as he was practically dozing off on his feet.

Sansa laughed:

"Dear boy. I hope he won't get worse with Joff for a brother and Cersei for a mother."

"My father wants to take him away for good," Tyrion assured her.

They sat in silence. Sansa was slowly sipping her cocktail, obviously reveling in the feeling of being rescued from Joff. Tyrion felt a rush of tenderness towards her. _If I only had Joff's looks..._

The stereo sounds of some Taylor Swift song faded away, and a new track played on.

_You're gonna lose that girl, yes, yes, you're gonna lose that girl..._

"The Beatles," Sansa smiled.

"You like them?"

"Oh, yes, very much. You know, my first heartbreak was when I was nine and I learned that John Lennon is long dead," she giggled, and Tyrion laughed with her. So she also had a sense of humor, then? Many women he met didn't get his jokes...

_Cause I will treat her right and then you'll be the lonely one..._

"I wish Joffrey could hear it," Sansa added.

"Sorry?" Tyrion asked with a pang in his heart. Surely she couldn't mean...

_I'll make a point of taking her away from you..._

She gazed at him and then lowered her eyes, flushing red.

_And I will take her out tonight and I will treat her kind..._

"I'm sorry," she said. "Oh, I've been talking nonsense. Please forgive me. It's the alcohol, you see, I haven't drunk it in ages."

"This cocktail is alcohol-free, my dear."

***

**Three months later, London**

"Very good," Tywin Lannister, founder and head of the Old Lion Logistics, said appraisingly. He seldom praised anyone. Least of all his younger son. "Very good. So we will restore Winterfell Ltd. after all."

"W-we will?" Sansa whispered.

"Of course. We couldn't do it on our own – you can't restore a tour operator that offers excursions to Alaska without ever having set foot in the state."

"So I will be able to visit home?" she exclaimed, hardly believing it. "And visit Bran and Rickon?"

"Of course. It will be an excellent ad – don't you think, Tyrion? Our own designer visiting a genuine Inuit settlement."

Butterflies flew in Sansa's stomach. Tyrion squeezed her hand and grinned:

"I told you!"

She let out an embarrassed laugh – he had bet that Tywin would allow her to restore her company and home. Sansa, who had met Tywin briefly a few times before, had no such hopes.

They walked out of the office, and Sansa smiled:

"So remind me please, how much do I owe you?"

"Twenty kisses."

"Let's make it thirty, because he made me the new designer."

She spotted a few photographers rushing to them.

"Tyrion! Do you want to blow up the whole yellow press? They've been stalking us for two and a half months already!"

"If they interfere, I will send them a bomb in a piece of wedding cake," Tyrion said. "Let's go home and shut all the doors."

They were inseparable since the fateful trip to Washington, and the day before they finally got engaged. Actually, Sansa was half of a mind to propose to Tyrion herself – the three months seemed more like three years. He explained, when he did propose, that he wanted her to get used to his dwarfism.

"You fool!" she said to that. "I got used to it when you hugged me in Cersei's kitchen."

As Bronn drove them home, Tyrion said:

"Speaking of the wedding... How about starting the reception in Liverpool?"

With a smile she remembered their first date, if it may be so called with Tommen keeping their company for most of the time, and leaned to him:

"I think you want to make it fifty."

"Fifty what?"

"Fifty kisses."


End file.
